In which I out myself

Photo by Max Brown on Unsplash

If you experience suicidal thoughts, the following post could be potentially triggering, as I share some of my own struggles in this area. If you need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255, the Trevor Project at 1-866-488-7386, or reach the Crisis Text Line by texting “START” to 741-741.

There is a war going on in my head

I've shared this before. Several times.

Why do I struggle so much with my depression?

Nature? Most definitely, my genetics are rampant with mood disorders and addictions. I'm medicated and unafraid to say so.

Nurture? Equally causal. It wasn't a rosy-glow picture.

Trauma? Multiple.

Systemic oppression? Check.

Spiritual battle? To the extent that I believe God made doctors and pharmacists to improve and save lives, yes, I would say the converse is that the fallen nature of this world means that biological ailments occur and can be used to rob people of their joy and peace. What I am NOT saying is that mental health conditions can be prayed away. That's bad theology and I won't have it.

Stress? You have no idea. BINGO.

I kind of stacked the cards against myself this semester; 

• Motherhood (which is now being acknowledged as the workload equivalent of 2.5 FTE)

• A full-time job (which I enjoy, even if it's fairly taxing)

• Six credit hours of graduate study/week (and that's just class time, not counting homework

• Participating in the leadership development program for which I work (with Kelsey and that has been a great bonding experience with her and my peers, also takes another 4 hrs/wk + homework)

• My marriage is turning 20 years old this year and both Seth and I are staring at mid-life somewhat disillusioned that neither of us are where we pictured ourselves at this point. We've changed and grown a lot. In some ways together, and others apart. And marriage is HARD WORK.

• The developmental task for my teens to think outside of their amygdalas (amygdalae?), utilizing critical thinking, empathy, self-control, is a task of MONUMENTAL proportions and is taking all of me to not eat them and be done. Kidding, I don't really have a taste for humans.

• I seem to be the only one who is both bothered by the chaos of unattended chores AND is willing to spend lengths of time doing them in our common areas. There is a child who is very meticulous about their space, but that's it.

• Two of my children are in high school. And one is driving, working a part-time job (struggling with time management and stress as a result), has been in relationship for two years, and is going to be a senior next year. This equates to a daily prayer of, "Dear God, please don't let me f*ck them up any more than I already have," and new strands of glitter hair making their debuts, contributing to my future as a peach-haired geriatric.

• In a world that bases the value of a woman on her appearance, the daily reminder of time beating along via the mirror's reflection of the more-than-fine lines on my face, steady accumulation of inches on my waist, and the fading of what has always been my crown jewel, my red hair, I'm not exactly feeling bodycon these days.

Add in the family dynamics of being between the parents of teens and launching center stages of the family life cycle, where family role strains are highest, and I. JUST. CAN'T. EVEN. 

In the grad school realm, I feel lost. Where I've always been a quick study, both socio-perceptively and intellectually, I'm struggling to focus and comprehend the pretentious linguistics of scholarly articles, much less to be able to recall specific details on which to base any intelligent fodder for the class discussions.

Part of this (most?) is for sure a bandwidth issue - I am well aware of that. 

Perhaps another underlying issue is that I'm in a program in which I do not have an undergraduate foundation. I feel like the proverbial fish out of water in many regards as my classmates readily draw upon knowledge from an undergrad class they had with my professor(s), and I'm like, "Uh, I know about sensation and perception, socialization, and human development. Maslow, Piaget, anyone?" And....crickets. Not really.

While I feel confident that this is the right program for me, in the classroom full of young adults who are closer to my daughter's age than my own (that was made clear, again, tonight) and did study political science, or in my other class (in which I am the only master's student - the rest are all PhD candidates), sociology, I feel like I'm missing some of the basics, and often feel inept in comparison.

I know,

But being a PT student in a program that is heavily skewed toward FT students (classes only offered every 3-4 semesters) and no summer session classes, kind of required me to do this if I wanted these classes before 2020.

Scale back at work, you say? At a financial cost  - the tuition benefit I receive as an employee is pro-rated to FTE %. So, if I were to negotiate a reduction in my hours, I would have to make up the difference cost-wise. Being that we don't have a nest egg for Kelsey to attend college and that is in the near future, I would rather not rob her of any educational resources we could offer her, spending them on myself instead.

Also, grad school is competitive, and I yearn to do better than I did as an undergraduate, where I simply attended, gained, and applied knowledge without participating in student activities or forming relationships with the faculty because I was a working, married, 1st generation student who just kept my nose to the grindstone. Because this is important to me. This experience is something that will help me in furthering my goals of working for social justice through policy. I also hope for the advanced degree to serve as a means to facilitate Seth's future career change as manual labor continues to take its toll on his body, offering a higher income on my part to offset any losses that might be incurred in that life transition.

All of that is a lot. A freaking shit-ton of life burden.

I'm more sweary than I'd like...while I appreciate a well-executed curse on occasion, I'm not such of fan of the ubiquitous use of them that many are. That may be scandalous to some of my church friends, but I like to think I'm a bit like Mary Magdalene in that regard (aside from the whoring bit), and she and Jesus were tight.

I find myself crying a lot. Like "pre-natal a lot"....BUT IT IS NOT THAT. We took care of that...and had it confirmed. 

I lost my car in Denver, causing unnecessary stress that initiated the self-fulfilling prophetic cycle.

The negative self-talk is relentless.

• You're a crap mom, your kids wouldn't fight like this if you were any good at mothering.

• You don't belong here. (In grad school, at work, on earth in general - and PLEASE KNOW, this admission carries so much guilt and shame with it, because I KNOW that it isn't true, but that voice isn't one of knowledge and objectivity. Besides if God had meant for me to be gone, I would have perished with The Great Pneumogedden of 2009, among many other things which I have overcome. Also, no, I don't have a plan.)

• You were never meant to be..

• Nobody actually likes you, you know? 

• The only one who looks after you is you, and you can't even do THAT well.

• You FAIL

And that is just the beginning of the self-inflicted cruelty.

We could go all day. Oh, wait, I already do.

I try to combat it with affirmations, meds, therapy visits, and self-care the best I can. It's exhausting, and I'm just SO TIRED.

I am fighting my damnedest to get through this though. And enlisting help, so rest assured I'm not in this alone.

Looking at life a bit like Avery did when Jerry Maguire said he wanted to break up with her.

"I did the 23 hour nose-route to the top of El Capitan in 6 hours! I can make this work!"

I've done it before.

As my boy Bruno says, "Don't believe me, just watch."

*I totally should have been doing school work while writing this, but I chose to take care of my mental health by putting this out there.